


Seven First Dates

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt tries his hand at speed dating and is having an abysmal time until someone he doesn't expect shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven First Dates

**Author's Note:**

> In light of the new spoilers regarding speed dating, I decided to post this. Written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project prompt 'first date'. Warning for foul language and mention of Blaine.

“So, I like going on long walks…candlelit dinners…moonlight in the city…”

The sound of the man’s inane chatter peters off as Kurt focuses his attention solely on the small timer on the table, praying that it would go off now…now…now.

Crap.

Kurt’s face ached from forcing a look of genuine interest onto it for the last half an hour. It was a mask to hide the fact that three words in he stopped listening.

Kurt had seen six men so far and their answers had all been the same. What did they feel was the perfect first date? Long walks (either in the park or on the beach), candlelit dinners (or picnics), and finding a rooftop to look at the moonlight in the city (retro 1980s Christopher Cross). When the first man had said it, Kurt thought the comment was adorably cliché, until he realized the man was being serious. When every other man after him had said something similar, Kurt suddenly became less interested in speed dating and more interested in shoving a knife into his own eye to relieve the pain.

Unfortunately, there were no utensils on any of the tables.

Kurt was barely through a third of the first group of guys and he already wanted to run screaming.

He heard snickering coming from the line of waiting men, and not just the nervous tittering of grown men acting like anxious teenagers that had begun to turn Kurt’s stomach. It turned into honest to God laughter by the time the buzzer went off signaling that this potential suitor’s five minutes was through and a new victim got to take the hot seat.

The next man sat down, but it was Kurt who started sweating.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gay Pride’s answer to the eternal question what _not_ to wear.”

Kurt looked steadily into the demonically smug face and mocking green eyes he knew all too well, unwilling to back down.

This was about to become the longest five minutes of his life.

Now he knew why they didn’t leave the utensils on the tables. If he had a butter knife within reach, someone would have gotten stabbed.

“Look who’s here!” Kurt exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically in his attempt to cover his total disdain, “none other than Sebastian Smythe, the biggest French whore of the Upper East Side.”

Sebastian tried his best to pout, but his signature smirk was affixed too firmly in place to allow that to happen.

“Now, Kurt,” he said, at least managing an offended tone of voice, “why would you say something mean and hurtful like that?”

“You _are_ the only person I know of who can make it into the society pages for what you _didn’t_ wear and not for what you did,” Kurt said, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“You streak one heiress’s Sweet Sixteen party, and you never live it down.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, folding his hands on the table, mimicking Kurt’s prim posture. “Regardless, I _do_ have a rep to protect.”

“And what rep is that?” Kurt asked. “Open 24 hours?”

“Ouch,” Sebastian said, giving Kurt a wink. Kurt threw his head back and laughed, not even realizing that this was the first “date” he had so far where he hadn’t glanced down at the timer on the table once to see how much longer the torture would endure.

“So, why are you even here? Where is Blainers?” Sebastian looked over the tables to the other couples wrapping up their short conversations. “Are you guys finally trying to find a third wheel to join you in your freakishly disturbing sex life? I’m a little offended that you didn’t just call me.”

Before Kurt could answer, his buzzer went off.

“Oh,” Kurt said, not sure why he didn’t feel relieved that his time with Sebastian was up, “time to move on, I guess.”

“Pfft.” Sebastian grabbed the timer and reset it for five minutes. The next man in line stepped up to Kurt’s table and glared. When Sebastian didn’t automatically relinquish his seat, the man cleared his throat. Kurt’s eyes flicked up toward the aggravated man, but Sebastian kept his gaze fixed on Kurt’s face, waiting for an answer to his question.

“Uhh…” Kurt muttered, trying to get Sebastian to at least acknowledge the man looming over them, but Sebastian obviously could care less.

“Excuse me,” the man finally barked out, tapping his foot right beside Sebastian’s black Oxford.

“Why?” Sebastian said, his eyes not moving from Kurt’s face. “Did you fart or something?”

Kurt laughed through the tension when the man beside them gasped with horror.

“What did you say?” he hissed.

“Look, Twinkle Toes,” Sebastian said, finally turning to address the man fully, his eyes looking him up and down once, “I forgive you for whatever you did…not for that Fantastic Sam’s haircut, but you’re being kind of rude here.”

The man stared with his mouth hanging open, at a complete loss for a comeback, one hand coming up to the crown of his head in defense of his hair. The re-set buzzer went off again, and Sebastian huffed.

“Now, look at that,” he said, grabbing the timer and setting it for another five minutes. “You’ve wasted all that time interrupting us when that nice man over there…” Sebastian gestured blindly behind him toward the next table, “was looking forward to your enthralling company.”

The man looked to Kurt for help, and Kurt tried to look sympathetic, but he couldn’t. His haircut _was_ atrocious, and Kurt was willing to bet his favorite Ferragamo shoes that this man liked long walks and candlelit dinners.

Shit. Now he owed Sebastian one.

The jilted man stuck his nose in the air and walked on by when Kurt made no move to get rid of Sebastian and give him a chance.

Sebastian turned back to Kurt – whose eyes were shining with suppressed laughter causing him to tear up – and folded his hands on the table again.

“So, you were telling me why you’re alone here on a Saturday night subjecting yourself to speed dating when last I heard you were engaged.” Sebastian unfolded his hands and grabbed for Kurt’s left hand, catching it before Kurt could snatch it away. “Ah! And no ring.” Kurt pulled his hand away and shoved it beneath the table. “Mr. Hummel, are you stepping out on your man?”

Kurt knew that Sebastian was just teasing, but the topic of Blaine still stung. But Kurt was going to be an adult about this. They weren’t in high school, anymore.

“We broke up,” Kurt said, looking up from the table and meeting Sebastian’s eyes.

“Oh,” Sebastian said, looking confused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah?” Kurt said with a dry chuckle. “Why do you care?”

“Because, I thought Blaine made you happy,” Sebastian said with less arrogance.

Kurt nodded.

“He did, for a while,” Kurt agreed, “but apparently I wasn’t the only one making _him_ happy.”

“Oh,” Sebastian mouthed, his expression turning blank. Not knowing the appropriate response for this particular situation, he sat up and swept his eyes over the room again.

“So, how many of these have you been on so far?” he asked. “Any potential love interests?”

Sebastian wiggled his eyebrows and despite the melancholy of the conversation previous, Kurt chuckled lightly.

“You’re my seventh first date,” Kurt said, “and no. Everyone here seems to be obsessed with long walks and candlelit dinners.”

Sebastian scoffed.

“Yeah, well that’s because you’re a diamond stuck in the middle of a loser cattle call.”

Kurt jerked back, astonished at Sebastian Smythe referring to him as _a diamond_.

“What happens when you do find Mr. Right?” Sebastian asked, continuing the conversation as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. “Do you guys just leave this rabble behind and ride off into the sunset?”

“Well, we…” Kurt started, and then stumbled to a stop, perplexed, “wait, you should know. You signed up to be here.”

“Nope.” Sebastian leaned in and grinned his most wicked grin. “I saw you through the window, so I thought I’d come in and annoy the shit out of you.”

Kurt looked shocked, but only for a second before he laughed again.

“If I find someone I like, I think I fill out one of these cards.” Kurt picked up a white business card off the table and held it up. Sebastian plucked it out of Kurt’s fingers and flipped it over.

“Lame,” Sebastian commented, tossing the card down on the table. “Come on. We’re blowing this crapfest.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide. Leaving sounded like a dream come true, but leaving with Sebastian?

Would that be safe?

Or sane?

Maybe not, but it sounded like it could be fun, especially when all that he had to look forward to for the rest of the evening was a long line of New York’s most desperate bachelors.

“I’m supposed to be here for another…” Kurt looked down at his watch and his whole body deflated like a defective balloon, “another hour.”

Sebastian looked left and right, and shrugged, his face reflecting his thoughts on the absurd bullshit that was speed dating.

“Who the fuck’s going to keep you here?” Sebastian argued. “Besides, if you come with me, you might end up on the society page.”

Sebastian stood and offered Kurt his hand, waiting patiently for the man to accept.

Kurt looked at Sebastian’s hand and followed it up to his face.

“Come on,” Sebastian mouthed, beckoning him with his fingers and motioning toward to door with his head.

“Sure,” Kurt said, slapping his hand down on his buzzer to stop the timer and rising from his seat. “Why not? It’s about time I started seeing my face in the paper.”


End file.
